She was a hot air balloon, floating high on desire and hormones. Humming, she started her laptop, her barely touched venti latte growing cold in its paper cup beside her. “Somebody got laid,” Kim muttered as she hobbled past Sherry’s desk. Her cast was wrapped in emerald satin to match her blouse. “Hope she calls.” Sherry rolled her eyes at Peter who raised his eyebrows above his glasses. “Well?” he asked. “And please don’t tell me it was Glenn.” “Glenn, schmen.” She shook her head, unable to wipe the smile off her face. “Not the dancer?” Peter leaned in closer. She nodded her head. “I mean, the article’s filed. It was in this morning’s paper. So what’s the harm, am I right?” Taking a sip of her cold latte, she leaned back in her chair. “Ethically, I’m in the clear.” “So I was right.” Peter grinned.
